Loss
by Muff'Nbutter
Summary: They were born to be best friends, born to love each other forever. But when tragedy strikes, will Bella remember that true love will survive through all? Will she be able to learn how to live without the one who taught her how to love in the first place?


SUMMARY: "I'll love you forever, no matter what," I said. "I know. Nothing can ever come between us and nothing will ever make us forget our love for each other. That's not a promise, Bella, that's a fact." They were born to be best friends, and born to love each other forever. But when tragedy strikes, will Bella remember that true love will survive through all? Will she be able to learn how to live without the one who taught her how to love in the first place? Why would she need to?All human, dramadramadrama!

**Disclaimer:** I own not the characters of Twilight. Even though I desperately wish I did.

* * *

God did I love that boy.

We had known each other since birth practically, his parents being friends and neighbors with my own, so we were born to be _best_ friends. And more. We were meant to be so much more.

We were five years old the first time he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I, being the rational one of us, said we were too young and should probably wait until we were older. He asked again later that week. I told him yes, of course. We were much more mature and could fully comprehend the meaning of our actions by then.

We were married under that tree that joined our backyards together by another one of his friends, whose name I can't seem to recall these twenty years later, but he was on his T-ball team. Their team was the best in the league, which basically meant that nobody hit the tee on accident when they were up to bat.

Ten years after our marriage, we started dating. Ten years to the day. We always celebrated our wedding anniversary, though as we grew older it was more of a joke- a reason for us to completely slack off for a day. we didn't get any complaints about it from our parents, or even teachers since it was such a small town and everyone knew our story anyway. But on our ten year "anniversary," he shocked me by asking me to actually go out with him. This surprised me immensely, because I didn't think he thought about me that way. I knew for sure that I only thought of _him_ as a friend, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. So I said yes and my mom drove us into town and we saw a movie. And he was the _perfect_ gentleman: paying for my ticket, buying me popcorn, letting me have the armrest, and not trying to make a move on me once. After the movie, we met Renee in front of the restaurant where she and my father had dinner while we were on the date. My dad looked like he was about to cry, driving his daughter and her first date home, even if it _was_ just me and him.

The adults went inside first, and we were left on my porch alone. He looked me in the eyes, saying, "I don't know how you did it, Bella, but you've captured my heart." His sincerity was astounding. It made my heart ache that I didn't feel anything for him. I knew I should have waited until I was older to get married to him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't..." I started to tell him.

"Don't what, Bella?" he asked, inching his face closer to mine. I panicked. He was going to kiss me, I could tell. But for some reason, I couldn't stop him. He closed the distance between us and our lips touched, eyes closed, and rest was history. Thinking back now, I still have no idea why I didn't see that I was hopelessly in love with him before that kiss. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe he could just kiss _that good_. Okay, I bet I _did_love him before, but still... I'm glad I have that menory of him.

We were officially "together" ever since. Nothing could stop us, No one could separate us, we were just meant to be, it seemed. And all it took for me to realize this was a kiss from my beloved. My one. My only.

And now here I stand at twenty-five. We had known each other for that many years and had dated for ten of them. I'm _still_ hopelessly in love with him, but I never imagined that such a thing could bring mixed emotions in me.

I always thought it was such a good thing to be so endlessly in love with someone, that those feelings trump all else. That you were going to be in love with one person until you die. But I never thought that such a day would come so soon. I never thought that I would bury my love before I even got to marry him...

He proposed me me the night he died, you know? He took me to La Petite Renard for dinner; he said that since I was so "foxy" he had to take me there... I didn't get it because I took Spanish instead of French in high school. We were seated and he had me talk about what an amazing day I had, just smiling at me the whole time with that cute grin of his, silently letting me know that there was so much going on in that head of his that he was waiting to tell me. So I kept talking and talking until I had absolutely nothing left to say, and he still didn't speak what was on his mind. He just kept smiling at me as he ate some weird concoction of I don't even _know _what, and his eyes held secrets; ones that he was bursting to share, but was trying to reign in his anticipation. I figured he had gotten a raise or something at work, and I was wondering why he didn't just tell me already.

I never thought it was a proposal waiting for me. We had been living together since we went to Seattle together for college, and got our own small little house in the woods together after, but he never mentioned marriage to me, except to celebrate our little "anniversaries" every year. I assumed he didn't think about it for the same reason I didn't: we already had all that came with marriage in our relationship; the only thing missing was the piece of paper telling us it was legal. So I just didn't bother myself with it. I guess that helped him when he was prepping to surprise me.

But he was so casual about the whole situation, just like he was about everything else. He told me he had something for me and I asked what it was. He dropped his napkin on the ground and bend down to pick it up, coming up on one knee in front of me, he took my hand and kissed it gently, before picking the napkin up and setting it carefully on the table next to me. I still didn't suspect anything.

Then he said, "Why don't you look at that napkin, Bella."

And I was confused, but of course I did it anyway; I would do anything he asked of me. And under the napkin he had placed a box. _Still _I didn't think much of it. I thought it must have been earrings.

It wasn't until he actually opened the box and I saw the ring that I comprehended what was going on. And I knew that he could see that exact moment on my face because his eyes lit up even more than they already were, something that I hadn't thought possible.

He didn't ask a question and I didn't give an answer, he just slipped the ring on my finger and I folded myself into his arms, hugging him for dear life.

God I loved that boy.

We knew each other so well.

After celebrating for a while longer, he continued his tradition of being the perfect gentleman and had me wait inside while he ran out to get the car pulled up, not letting me set foot in the rain.

And that's how we get to where we are today.

He just never came back. Hit and run. But I guess you guys _did_ know that, didn't you? It being on the news for a week and all. And still they haven't found who did it.

Thanks a lot _Port Angeles Police Department!_ You guys are really doing your job! Excellent job of catching a _murderer_ who killed one of the only good people left in the world today!

Good job! Let the drug dealers and rapists out for early parole while you just sit around, twiddling your thumbs when some action needs to happen!

Why _Jacob?_ Why couldn't you save him, or at least find his killer? _Why'd you have to let this happen to MY fiancee?!_

_"Calm down, Bella!"_

No! I won't calm down!

_"Please... just let it go, baby..."_

* * *

I woke up a couple hours later completely mortified. That was a hell of a way to end his eulogy: freaking out and breaking down so I had to be hauled off the stage by my own father and be sedated.

I headed downstairs with a fog in my brain, temporarily forgetting that the reception would be held down there.

When I reached the top of the stairs everyone quieted down and took in the sight of me with pity. I didn't want their pity or sympathy, or even their empathy... I just wanted my Jacob back, and nobody could give me that.

I started back down the stairs and everyone's conversations picked up again with more fervor, making up for the silence beforehand. Good. Then they wouldn't want to be talking to me. I always hated attention.

I got to the bottom of the steps without incident, which was amazing, considering how much of a klutz I am (especially in heels) and went to the kitchen to get myself some liquor.

There was only one other person in there, for which I was grateful. It was a man about my age with bronze hair and watery emerald eyes. Those eyes widened when he saw me, and he simply said, "Hello, there," rather than a generic "sorry for your loss." I liked that.

"Hello," was my reply. I reached for the bottle of vodka next to him and he offered to mix me a drink. "No thanks, I'm good." I took a long draw straight out of the bottle, and he let out a shaky laugh.

"I can see that; you _do_ look like you're good. Mind if I have a sip, too?" I forked the bottle over, and he repeated my actions. "Thanks. I'm glad I don't have be polite and try to hide my drinking problem in front of somebody here."

"You have a drinking problem?" I asked, slightly horrified that I had aided him with this.

"Yeah, my problem was that I hadn't drunk anything yet. You fixed that. Thanks," he said again.

"You're welcome."

Silence ensued as we passed the bottle back and forth.

"You're incredibly familiar," I told him after a while.

"I get that a lot," he muttered.

"Seriously," I said.

"I don't think you want to know where you know me from," he stated matter-of-factually.

"Really? Were _you _the guy from that 1-800 number?? You sounded much sexier on the phone..." I joked, trying to get him to stop acting so serious. I was mourning terribly on this day, and I knew it was really selfish, but I wanted to have all the people around me cheerful, so they might possibly be able to boost my spirits. Or something. The alcohol was starting to work through my system and I might not have been thinking clearly.

"No," he chuckled softly. "I was just the minister at your wedding twenty years ago, whose name you can't recall right now."

This stunned me.

I looked him over, and surely enough, I remembered the little kid having pretty bronze hair and bright green eyes, just like the man before me.

"I'm also the doctor who administered your sedatives, which is why I'm so surprised that you're up and about already. We expected you to sleep for another good hour or so..."

This stunned me even more.

"Edward Cullen," he said, sticking his hand out for me to shake.

"Bella Black," I said automatically. He raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn't comment on the last name I used. It wasn't official, but it might as well have been. I was in fact a widow now. Changing the subject, I questioned, "How did you even know about this? Didn't you move away _years_ ago?"

"I did. But I was in town for a medical conference and ran into him. He recognized me right away for some reason. We, uh, kept in touch again from there. This was only about a month ago."

"Oh," was my smart response.

This was the man who, in the beginning, brought Jacob and I together. I wasn't sure how I felt about meeting him again on this day. Tears started welling up in my eyes. I tried unsuccessfully not to let them overflow.

Suddenly arms were wrapped around me. And I was being held. I curled myself into his embrace and let myself cry like a baby as he made quiet "Shhushh" noises and rocked me back and forth, apologizing for bringing things up. I wished I could tell him that he didn't need to, but my vocal chords weren't functioning properly at that moment.

I could tell my loud sobs were starting to draw a crowd and I felt Edward nod his head, shooing people away, silently telling people to back off, and I was grateful for it. I didn't need more people to witness my destruction. One was enough.

But one person wouldn't leave.

"Who the hell are you?" my dad asked the person who was holding me together.

"Edward Cullen, sir," he answered. Charlie's silence told me that he recognized the name. He might have a few faults, but he had an excellent memory.

I could feel him standing in the doorway for a few more moments before he finally left me to wallow in my misery almost alone. Edward was allowed to stay. He kept the hole in my stomach Jacob left behind from bursting and killing me.

He was an excellent distraction, this handsome sorta-stranger...

**Woo-hoo!!**It's a one-shot!! This was one of the ideas that had been plaguing my mind and preventing me from updating my other stories for so long... I made it into a one shot, but I _DO_have many ideas for this story... if you readers can handle it not being updated very often, review and tell me to expand it! I'd be more than happy to, but know it wouldn't be my number one priority story...

So let me know what y'all think!

And have a nice day :)

Much Love,

Grace, the unGraceful


End file.
